There were so many! But a couple, in particular, really made an impression for whatever reason:
The Little Prince - My father sent this to me to console me; I guess he figured I was depressed about my parent's divorce. I didn't understand many things about the book at the time but there was something so wonderful and tender about the story; I just really loved its message. I've reread it many times as an adult and there are some very basic life lessons that I feel were perfectly illustrated in the novel.
The Red Balloon - This is a bit silly but I liked this book for aesthetic reasons. I just thought the pictures were really captivating. And there was something so comforting about the story. As a child, even though I was surrounded by people, I always felt lonely and I often withdrew into my own imagination. I could really empathize with Pascal and I didn't find it weird that he had a balloon for a friend. I often wished for a friend who would only care for me!
The Giving Tree - I feel kind of strange listing two books where the main character is friends with an inanimate object. This book made me more conscious of other people, of small acts of kindness that often go unnoticed. It made me want to be the kind of person that notices (as well as reciprocates). The really sad thing about this is it's made me become overly conscious; I often find myself apologizing to inanimate objects I may have inadvertently hit.
Where the Wild Things Are - So, who doesn't have this on their list? Although being a child is a wonderful time, it's can also be a very frightening, lonely time. This book always gave me this sense that no matter what happens, everything would be okay in the end. I think children crave that kind of security -- that you'll always find your way home.
Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel - There's always this permeating fear of being left behind or forgotten that I think a lot of people can relate to. Mary Anne is an older, outdated steam shovel who can no longer compete with more technologically advanced machinery and Mike is her loyal operator. To prove her resourcefulness, they promise to dig out a cellar for a newly built town hall in a day and end up digging themselves into a hole they cannot escape. In the end, they decide to convert her into a furnace. She just wanted to be useful! I always felt relieved that she got a happy ending.
I think that one thing that seems to be important to a child (at least, to the child I was) is the need to belong, to form connections and bonds to others. Like I said previously, children crave security. There is so much going on in the world and so fast, that it sometimes is overwhelming for a child and they feel they have no place in it. The freedom to explore is so important but I think kids need to know there's always a safety net there to catch them when they feel hurt, disappointed, jealous, and confused.
When I was a freshman in high school, a teacher said something to me that left an indelible mark. I was 14 at the time—an insecure girl, trying provide my siblings with a strong role model by means of faking, while struggling to find my identity and place in the world. I was angry. I was clinging desperately to the childhood I was being forced to abandon. The three of us were pretty emotionally battered by two divorces at this point; I was the one who remained stone-faced about it all. So naturally, when Mrs. McNally approached me privately after her English class, it took me by surprise.
“I just wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Reading and writing can be very cathartic when you’re troubled.” She handed me a copy of The Perks of Being A Wallflower.
I didn’t say a word. I was choking back tears of humiliation. I was livid. I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to say these things to me. …When you’re troubled. What was that suppose to mean? Despite my indignation, I went home and begrudgingly read the book. It, I'm pleased to report, changed my life. It's changed the way I look at literature. Before, I thought of reading as a kind of personally resonating activity. But then I realized how much more it meant to me, and perhaps, other students like me. It made me aware of how it gave me new perspectives and how reading someone's work makes you feel like you're part of something bigger than you are. You can read a book sometimes and no longer feel lonely; it makes you feel connected to everyone and everything. I think that's one of the biggest problems facing humanity: feelings of isolation. We so desperately want to reach out to people and know we are not alone in our joy, in our suffering, and in life—and all that it entails.
Considering how the book transformed my mind and the way I viewed literature and the world, I was totally dismayed when I found it some years later that the book was being targeted by "concerned parents". It was criticized and considered literary contraband. How could this be?
One thing adults often do is underestimate how smart kids really are. Kids may not be able to articulate these things but I know they understand, that they have some cognizance of what is really going on. We think that by shielding them from literature that may not be "appropriate", we are providing safe harbor, a shelter from the coming storm. Why do we do this? Literature, in essence, is just an expression of the human condition. It is so beautiful and valuable for that reason. It can be a welcome respite for kids who may be enduring far worse at home. For a child, a book can be like a friend with a jubilant story to share and distract its reader from things they might not be ready to face or simply, a friend who can empathize with what they may already be going through..
With that said, I don't think it's a matter of what literature should be taught; rather, it's about encouraging the kids to read whatever books they can. To hold children captive and forbid them to read a book because of potentially horrifying content is certainly a great disservice to them. There is no experience quite like knowing your mind is evolving after you have read something you find worthwhile. And that is an important thing to remember: literature is subjective. Who's to decide what's valuable and what isn't. Let's leave it up to the kids to decide.
When I was a sophomore in high school, a teacher said something to me that left an indelible mark. I was 16 at the time—an insecure girl, trying provide my siblings with a strong role model by means of faking, while struggling to find my identity and place in the world. I was angry. I was clinging desperately to the childhood I was being forced to abandon. The three of us were pretty emotionally battered by two divorces at this point; I was the one who remained stone-faced about it all. So naturally, when Mrs. McNally approached me privately after her English class, it took me by surprise. “I just wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Writing can be very cathartic when you’re troubled.” She handed me a copy of The Perks of Being A Wallflower. I didn’t say a word. I was choking back tears of humiliation. I was livid. I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to say these things to me. …When you’re troubled. What the fuck was that suppose to mean?
MyBookCASE Option 1
There were so many! But a couple, in particular, really made an impression for whatever reason:
I think that one thing that seems to be important to a child (at least, to the child I was) is the need to belong, to form connections and bonds to others. Like I said previously, children crave security. There is so much going on in the world and so fast, that it sometimes is overwhelming for a child and they feel they have no place in it. The freedom to explore is so important but I think kids need to know there's always a safety net there to catch them when they feel hurt, disappointed, jealous, and confused.
When I was a freshman in high school, a teacher said something to me that left an indelible mark. I was 14 at the time—an insecure girl, trying provide my siblings with a strong role model by means of faking, while struggling to find my identity and place in the world. I was angry. I was clinging desperately to the childhood I was being forced to abandon. The three of us were pretty emotionally battered by two divorces at this point; I was the one who remained stone-faced about it all. So naturally, when Mrs. McNally approached me privately after her English class, it took me by surprise.
“I just wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Reading and writing can be very cathartic when you’re troubled.” She handed me a copy of The Perks of Being A Wallflower.
I didn’t say a word. I was choking back tears of humiliation. I was livid. I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to say these things to me. …When you’re troubled. What was that suppose to mean? Despite my indignation, I went home and begrudgingly read the book. It, I'm pleased to report, changed my life. It's changed the way I look at literature. Before, I thought of reading as a kind of personally resonating activity. But then I realized how much more it meant to me, and perhaps, other students like me. It made me aware of how it gave me new perspectives and how reading someone's work makes you feel like you're part of something bigger than you are. You can read a book sometimes and no longer feel lonely; it makes you feel connected to everyone and everything. I think that's one of the biggest problems facing humanity: feelings of isolation. We so desperately want to reach out to people and know we are not alone in our joy, in our suffering, and in life—and all that it entails.
Considering how the book transformed my mind and the way I viewed literature and the world, I was totally dismayed when I found it some years later that the book was being targeted by "concerned parents". It was criticized and considered literary contraband. How could this be?
One thing adults often do is underestimate how smart kids really are. Kids may not be able to articulate these things but I know they understand, that they have some cognizance of what is really going on. We think that by shielding them from literature that may not be "appropriate", we are providing safe harbor, a shelter from the coming storm. Why do we do this? Literature, in essence, is just an expression of the human condition. It is so beautiful and valuable for that reason. It can be a welcome respite for kids who may be enduring far worse at home. For a child, a book can be like a friend with a jubilant story to share and distract its reader from things they might not be ready to face or simply, a friend who can empathize with what they may already be going through..
With that said, I don't think it's a matter of what literature should be taught; rather, it's about encouraging the kids to read whatever books they can. To hold children captive and forbid them to read a book because of potentially horrifying content is certainly a great disservice to them. There is no experience quite like knowing your mind is evolving after you have read something you find worthwhile. And that is an important thing to remember: literature is subjective. Who's to decide what's valuable and what isn't. Let's leave it up to the kids to decide.
When I was a sophomore in high school, a teacher said something to me that left an indelible mark. I was 16 at the time—an insecure girl, trying provide my siblings with a strong role model by means of faking, while struggling to find my identity and place in the world. I was angry. I was clinging desperately to the childhood I was being forced to abandon. The three of us were pretty emotionally battered by two divorces at this point; I was the one who remained stone-faced about it all. So naturally, when Mrs. McNally approached me privately after her English class, it took me by surprise.
“I just wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Writing can be very cathartic when you’re troubled.” She handed me a copy of The Perks of Being A Wallflower.
I didn’t say a word. I was choking back tears of humiliation. I was livid. I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to say these things to me. …When you’re troubled. What the fuck was that suppose to mean?